Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
no brakes, skidding tires, smashing glass, crunched steel sharp points piercing pinholes in a nerveless vein locked doors, hot engine, sweet exhaust chamber full, trigger ready, safety off one, two, five, ten.. how many would be enough dissolved at the bottom of a sleep inducing 40 ounce'r take off, like weighted birds soar is stuttered the quiet scream of a blade that cuts like butter childhood memories are not sweet, filled with imaginary friends they are haunted by real ghosts, tortured by lost souls looking for an escape long before you ever knew you would have so many reasons to run away
0
Nov 26, 2015
Nov 26, 2015 at 11:47 AM UTC
When I was a kid...
no brakes, skidding tires, smashing glass, crunched steel sharp points piercing pinholes in a nerveless vein locked doors, hot engine, sweet exhaust chamber full, trigger ready, safety off one, two, five, ten.. how many would be enough dissolved at the bottom of a sleep inducing 40 ounce'r take off, like weighted birds soar is stuttered the quiet scream of a blade that cuts like butter childhood memories are not sweet, filled with imaginary friends they are haunted by real ghosts, tortured by lost souls looking for an escape long before you ever knew you would have so many reasons to run away
bellis-tart
Written by
Nov 26, 2015
Nov 26, 2015 at 11:47 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem